Crying Is for Sissies

You can tell a lot about a baby's future by how he takes his shots. I can already tell that Liam is going to be tougher than all of the other kids. He’ll probably steal their lunch money and beat them up after school. He takes his shots like a champ.

I heard all kinds of horror stories about immunizations. New moms told me how they sobbed right along with their babies as they got their shots. Dads told me how they held their babies tightly so they couldn’t kick their legs as they screamed bloody murder. “You’ll need to bring Ben to the appointments,” they said. “You won’t be able to do it alone.”

Even the pediatrician apologizes profusely every time Liam goes in for his shots. She gets out the special Bugs Bunny band-aids and whispers happy poems in his ears and then furrows her brow and bites her lip before she carefully sticks him with each tiny needle.

But my strong little man hardly even cries. He lets out a little whimper when the first needle goes in, and gets a tiny bit louder with each shot. Mostly he just shakes his little arms in defiance. But the second it’s over, I pick him up and he stops crying. He looks around like, “Who was crying? It wasn't me.”

I hope your kid doesn’t go to school with Liam, because my little tough guy will kick your kid’s trash.